


Elevator Difficulties

by RosexKnight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you trap two people that hate each other in an elevator?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elevator Difficulties

“Gold.”

“French.”

God why did it always have to be him? It was bad enough that she worked in the same building as the miser why did he have to take lunch the same time as her? The two practically sneered the greetings to each other as Belle stepped into the elevator and the door closed. They stood in silence, him leaning on his cane and her clutching her book to her chest. The silence between them was tense. Rigid. The two ready to strike like feral cats.

“Does your latest reading material have anything to do with your job?” He asked, throwing the first punch. “Or is it more ridiculous fairy tales that make your head go further into the clouds?”

“Does your hand get tired gripping your cane?” She returned, not in the mood to care about the low blow. “Or do the rent you raise every few months pay for the gold handle?”

A sick surge of victory ran through her as his jaw clenched and his nostrils flare. He’d be attractive if he weren’t such a bastard.

Suddenly, the elevator lurched, and they found themselves gripping each other to keep from stumbling to the ground. The lights on it went off and everything went still. After a moment they jerked away from each other, as if burned. Gold practically growled as he stepped forward and pushed the call button. It buzzed, but no answer came.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He snarled, pressing it a few more times until he was practically punching the wall.

“Well don’t break it then we’re really screwed!” Belle snapped, returning his glare when he shot her one. He sighed, sitting down. in the corner “What are you doing?”

“Well I’m not bloody standing the whole time it takes this incompetent repair man to fix the damn elevator, dearie.” He said, his tone too sickeningly sweet.

“You think it’ll be a while?”

“Last time it was half an hour. Ruined my whole bloody schedule.”

Belle swallowed, her palms suddenly going clammy. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her already accelerating pulse. No. She’d hold herself together. She wouldn’t break down in front of fucking Gold of all people.

“What’s wrong with you?”

His words were harsh, but they were enough to give her focus as she simply gave him a scoff. “I don’t do well in closed spaces. Never have. It’s bad enough being stuck here with you...”

“Sit down, French.” He said, his voice stern. “It won’t do you any good standing.” She pursed her lips. “Bloody hell French sit down I don’t want you having a panic attack on me.”

That was it. She hated him. She complied after a stubborn moment, sitting across from him, strategically placing herself in a way she could sit modestly in her skirt and still not touch him. He rifled around in his pockets and then tossed her a pack of saltines.

“Just eat them. It’ll help.” He said when she gave him a skeptical look.

She knew that. “How do you know?”

“My son is claustrophobic.”

This was news. “You have a son.”

Gold didn’t answer, only gave her a snort as she ripped into the crackers. They sat like that for a few long moments. Belle entertained the thought of starting her book again and waiting her out. She was sure she could finish the tale of Rumpelstiltskin and perhaps even Sleeping Beauty. But she had more to think about. She glanced up at Gold, who had became quite engrossed with the gold handle of his cane. The miser had a son. The man who cared only for himself and his money had given her saltines to help. What was his deal.

“Thank you.” She said finally.

“Yes well. You owe me a pack of those.” He muttered, earning a glare from him.

“Right. Of course I do.”

“What’s that ungrateful tone for?”

“Why are you such a bastard?”

There. It was out in the open now. He glared at her, looking away again, first at his cane and then the reflective wall, tossing his cane aside as if he didn’t want anything to do with it. Belle swallowed, making the connection. Guilt curled in her gut, and she sighed.

Oh but it was hard to apologize. “Sorry. About before.”

“I’m used to it, dearie. I’m a hard man to love.”

“Or like.”

He chuckled, and Belle realized she’d never seen anything but a frown on him. He really was attractive. Or would be if he wasn’t such a bastard.

“And I’m sorry for insulting your fairy tales. Even if they are ridiculous.” He said, not sounding sincere, but Belle would take what she got. “Far too dusty a cover for my liking.”

She ran her fingers affectionately over her book’s cover. It was true that it was old. Perhaps a bit dusty. But well-loved.

“Sometimes the best books have the dustiest cover.” She defended.

He made a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement, and Belle sighed, deciding that even an imp that stole babies would be better company than him. However, soon she felt eyes on her. She looked up to find him staring at her, looking away the moment their eyes met. He shifted, stretching out his good leg. It brushed hers, she let it slide.

“So what happened?” She finally asked, breaking the silence when reading proved in vain.

For a moment, she was afraid he’d ignore her. Leave the question there or snarl that it was none of her business. But after a moment an answer did come.

His voice was low, almost a whisper. “I was drafted. My ex-wife was pregnant. I had to do something.”

He was miles away, Belle realized, and she closed her book. “I’m sorry...”  
“It’s no matter.” He said. “Taught me a lesson I needed. When we divorced she got the better portion of the wealth. I got my son.”

“So you do care about something other than your money.” He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I lost that bet.”

He looked as though he was ready to yell at her, but she giggled. “Calm down, Gold it was just a quip.”

“Not funny, French.” He muttered, glancing to her, then her book. “Which ridiculous fairy tale is making you more naive?”

She rolled her eyes. “Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Ah. Of course because that one’s not overplayed.”

“It’s my favorite.” Belle defended immediately.

“Please. The imp’s a bastard.”

“No he’s not! He’s...” Her voice trailed off, their gazes meeting for a moment, and it all fell into place. “...Lonely...”

Gold only scoffed again, turning away. But it was all on the table now wasn’t it?

“Would you like me to read it to you?”

“I suppose it’s better than your incessant prying.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but didn’t fight the smile that came. “Once upon a time, there was a spinner...”


End file.
